


The Winter Reigns Without Cease

by asemic



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Background Character Death, Emotional Manipulation, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 13:51:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asemic/pseuds/asemic
Summary: Best to let him be drawn in closer than to immediately strike.Cornelius Hickey read the signs and Solomon Tozer is the fly in his web.





	The Winter Reigns Without Cease

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely on tumblr's gargantua01's headcanon: _Hickey seducing Tozer in order to make his mutiny happen. Which obviously worked out well for him cause Tozer fell hard and remain loyal to him._

“Sergeant, I must thank you.”

Tozer, being a man of reason who held nearly enough sense to exercise it nodded. Cornelius extended a cigarette with a knowing smile, their fingers brushing enough for him to understand. It’s a signal, a fly vibrating along a web. 

Best to let him be drawn in closer than to immediately strike.

*

“I didn’t sign up for this,” Tozer muttered within earshot. They were alone, as alone as they could be in shared quarters. Perhaps it better to liken it to their own separate sphere, a bubble belonging to them. Cornelius stretched himself inside that tight space, forced their knees to knock. 

“None did. To be forced into this hell, subject to the whims of a specter.” Cornelius shook his head and let the words stand. “I will not meet my end at the hands of either fools or a monstrosity.” He gauged Tozer’s face. The shift of his jaw, how it set and moved as if he literally chewed upon Cornelius’s point. His nostrils flared. Another slight push then. “How is Heather doing?”

Tozer’s hand curled into a fist. “He is under my care,” he choked out with grief cupping the words. 

Cornelius adjusted his mouth to reflect sympathy, pursed his lips and drew his brown down. “He’s lucky to have you. The same compassion you granted to me will reach him.”

“You’ve seen him? He,” Tozer’s lip twitched and Cornelius rested a hand on his knee. A gesture of understanding as they sat in extended silence. He adjusted his breathing to match Tozer’s, careful to mirror his motions. 

For all his appearance, Solomon Tozer was a soft man who cared deeply. His ministrations for the a man partially cloaked in the robe of death was the clearest signal. His actions, to use a well-worn phrase, spoke louder than his words. Wholly expected from a Royal Marine who defined his life by movements and ability to take orders. He was meant to be led and Cornelius Hickey was born to lead. 

“Why don’t you and I play a game of cribbage tomorrow? We can set the game up beside William.” He smiled when Tozer’s head perked up at the man’s name. “Perhaps my terrible play may rouse him from his slumber.”

“He’d like that. Thank you.” He squeezed Cornelius’s forearm and that familiar tremble rippled through his body. He felt it with Billy and now it rang clear and true like a bell. 

*

“What was her name?” Cornelius leaned forward in rapt attention as Solomon emphasized the shapeliness of the doxy’s buttocks. 

“Bess. Around-the-World Bess. If you laid out all the men she fucked they’d wrap around the world,” they finished together. Solomon laughed and elbowed Heather’s unconscious body. He swayed in the hammock, a parody of movement.

Cornelius made an impressed face. “I take it you’ve accounted for much of that distance.” Solomon flushed as red as his uniform, suddenly shy after describing her lips, both smiling and layer hidden. “Come now, don’t forget you’re in good company here.”

A deeper flush as if the man was unsullied, a virginal braggart who parroted the reactions of bawdy men. “Let your imagination run wild, Hickey.”

He barely suppressed his smile. Cornelius intended to; it was so easy especially when leaning so close to the man, tracing the muscles of his forearms and toned thighs with his gaze. “I commend both you and Heather for your conquests. When we return home direct me to her. We need to guide her to another circuit across the globe.”

He let Solomon do all the laughing. He occupied the moment picturing the man on his back, head tossed against a well-work pillow, skin rosy as the tip of his cockstand. 

*

That night his thoughts and hand strayed to what may be. 

“Solomon,” he whispered to the phantom in his mind. “How can I possibly thank you for your kindness?” And Solomon pinked, the splay of his thighs an invitation he was more than willing to accept. 

“If you close your eyes you may imagine I am your dock girl.” Cornelius freed him, felt him curled soft against his palm. The man sighed and tilted his hips up, pressed himself until he began to thicken. “Bess. Think of her.” Sweet name for a clever tongue, a wet cunt. 

Solomon’s eyes shut and his fingers skimmed Cornelius’s hair, his mind returning him to his Bess.  
“Tell me about her. What shall your Bess do?” Her tasks were obvious for those who crossed her wide, perfumed path. Still he wanted to hear the actions and Cornelius licked him as he shared. The words spilled past Solomon's lips as he forced Cornelius’s throat to open. Poor Bess, drooling around his thickness. What a sight they must be, he and Solomon’s Bess. 

And the taste of him, a rush of liquid he choked down unable to do anything but swallow, held tight by strong hands. Solomon remained in his mouth for a moment then slid out, semen and saliva trailing with pure pleasure carved into his face. 

Cornelius looked up at him, licking his lips, his pockets empty of coin yet filled with Solomon’s loyalty. 

*

“You did your best.” 

The man was broken, head on his knees as he wept. Cornelius slung an arm around his shoulders and rocked him gently. He remembered someone doing the same for him after his father died. He was held fast and rocked by his mother; yes, she drew him to her breast and in the same motion sent him onto the streets to earn some money. 

But for once it wasn’t about him, not directly. Sergeant Solomon Tozer commanded his full attention. “You did your best,” he repeated to sink into the moment. He let Solomon keen and lean heavily against him. Sobbed until his tears frosted against his face. “Trust that he knows this fact as he watches us from his Paradise.” 

Solomon coughed and gasped, nodded like a child. “I know that. I know he felt no pain. But there he remains,” he pointed to the corpse, “with arms raised as if trying to protect himself.”

No, it was a contraction of the limbs; Cornelius made a soothing noise. He brushed his fingers across the man’s face, wiped the mucus and tears away before they froze. His own eyes were wet from the soot that hung in the air, but he didn’t blink them away. He let them roll down his cheeks in an echo of emotion. “Please, do not sink into despair. You must live for him. We’ll live for William Heather, his name carved into our hearts. Nestled beside all the others we’ve lost along the way.” 

“I will.” Solomon made a move to untangle himself from Cornelius, but he was held firm. He squirmed slightly, but relented. Cornelius cupped the back of his head and made sure all he saw was the body of his friend, blackened and reaching up for assistance no one could provide. 

*

“How much farther?”

Cornelius tapped his fork against his plate and avoided looking at Billy. His focus was all on Solomon and how he stalked through the tents, like a caged animal. This was no place for a marine, nor for flora or fauna it seemed. Here they sat with their endless supply of tinned dinners, chewing on their resentments. 

“As far as they desire. We march to our ends for their glory. Will our names be written in the history books?” Cornelius scoffed and adjusted his posture to mimic his supposed betters. Solomon threw himself on the box beside him, drummed his fingers along the stock of his weapon. “No, it’ll be the likes of Sir John, swallowed by the ice who will be remembered. ‘We pressed on in Sir John’s honor.’” His accent was tight and simpering. Jesus. Snorting, he let his empty plate clatter to the rocks below. 

“Dangerous talk,” Solomon stated bluntly. But he made no other move to correct him. Instead he reached into his pocket and drew two cigarettes. Lit them both and passed one to Cornelius. “And what of the beast? How will they write about that?”

“That’ll be ignored. Losses are expected and will be smoothed over. Gallant men who died in the name of exploration. Perhaps they’ll name a strait or cairn for our dead.” He exhaled a stream of smoke and tipped his head. He felt Solomon stiffen slightly, shimmy over to Cornelius’s side until their thighs met. Gallant man indeed, picked off by monsters of ice, fire, and the supernatural. What fucking madness did they touch here in their circle of hell? 

“This’ll be the end of us if we don’t find help.” Billy shoved off, left to do whatever business one could attend to here surrounded by rocks and rocks and cold. 

“He’s right,” Solomon whispered. “We’re thoroughly fucked if the Captains’ plans lead us astray.” He eyed Cornelius with an exhausted look, anger rimming red in the corners of his vision. 

“Perhaps we need a new angle to ponder our predicament. Solomon, I hope you trust me as much as I trust you.” He tentatively reached out and placed his hand against the man’s knee. Held it there before casually letting it slide off. He felt a slight nudge to his ankle. Once, twice, thrice. Purposeful response. The man desired to be led. 

“I do, Hickey. God help me.” He stubbed out his cigarette and pinched the end, tucked it into his pocket. 

_I will_ Cornelius smiled. God provides. 

*

“You’ve blood around your nails.”

Solomon dropped a rag onto Cornelius’s lap. He did not register the item, only the words. Cursed briefly in his mind, but he recovered thanks to the sergeant. “Your attempts to save the man failed, but don’t let their deaths be your burdens.”

“To set upon him like savages.” Cornelius let his hands shake, fumbled with the cloth before tossing it to the ground. Solomon knelt before him and took his palm in hand, gazed at him with understanding. They both condemned men to die in their own ways. He a purposeful actor, Solomon an unwitting fool in the games of a flame-covered madman. All victims of this place, of a monster he felt kinship with. Oh, this hellhole seized him by the heart and crushed it like a skull. 

_Hm._ He suppressed a chuckle as he remembered how his namesake’s head caved easily. Fragile like ice. 

No matter. Solomon was on his knees before him to rub the blood from his fingers. Gently, he cradled his hand and worked the cloth around the dips and swells of his digits. “I can’t do this any longer, Cornelius.” His words were a whisper, his face pale. ”I’ve lost so much and to know I could have.”

He trailed off, but didn’t stop his motions; they increased in speed as if he had no other way to translate his feelings. The web vibrated and Cornelius’s head turned to the movement. “I am here, Solomon.” He turned his hand and wrapped it around the man’s, squeezed and stroked and pressed. 

Cornelius let his body drop to the ground and he drew their foreheads together. No kiss, nothing of that sort now. He rubbed their cheeks together, scraped their beards, their jaws. A primal action. Let him make the next move in the privacy of the tent. 

Solomon did, hauling him closer until Cornelius straddled the man’s thigh, Cornelius’s knee resting comfortably against the sergeant’s groin. They moved with efficiency, took what was necessary then disengaged. His body vibrated and he hissed as he adjusted himself. Solomon did the same while his teeth worried his lips. He was pink and met Cornelius’s eyes then focused on the ground. Then held his gaze with certainty. 

He wanted to fuck him proper, erase the thoughts of the previous world from his mind until he was the only warm thing in Solomon's orbit. Later. Right now the seed sprouted and needed attending.


End file.
